


Four Perfect Little Words

by beckydawolf



Category: Agent Carter (TV)
Genre: F/F, Fluff and Smut, Hangover, Historically Accurate Lingerie, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-10
Updated: 2015-02-10
Packaged: 2018-03-11 12:45:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3327425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beckydawolf/pseuds/beckydawolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Angie had a habit of invading Peggy's space. She didn't mind that anywhere near as much as she should.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Four Perfect Little Words

At a little after seven in the morning, with the dawn light just breaching the east windows of the Griffith Hotel, Peggy climbed the front steps on tired legs. From the other side of the double doors came the familiar jangle of keys. Peggy waited, shuffling from foot to foot to keep herself awake, while the doors were unlocked.

“Good morning, Miss Carter,” Miss Fry said. “Are you only now getting in?”

“Yes,” Peggy answered, too well mannered to comment on the disapproving brow furrow. “One of the down sides of working for the phone company, I occasionally have to take a night shift. Now, if you'll excuse me, I would very much like my bed.”

She pushed her way past Miss Fry, ignoring the breakfast smells emanating from the kitchen, in favour of trudging up the staircase, without any real awareness of where she was going, until her legs stopped in front of her door. Once inside, she deposited her bag and toed off her shoes, feet aching with the pleasure of being level again.

Halfway through unbuttoning her blouse, a knock at her door broke through the quiet. Peggy ignored it, mostly in the hope that the person on the other side would _go away_ and allow her to get some sleep. Unfortunately, Peggy's visitor was persistent, knocking a second time.

“Peg, it's me,” said Angie. “I know you're up.”

With a sigh, she buttoned herself back up and opened the door, prepared to tell Angie – politely, of course – to leave her alone. The words died in her throat when she saw her, wrapped in a lavender robe with her hair flattened on one side where she must have slept on it. She utterly looked miserable.

“Are you all right?” Peggy asked, full of concern.

“No. Can I come in?”

“Of course.” She moved out of the doorway and Angie shuffled past her. “What happened to you?”

Angie planted herself, face down, on Peggy's bed. “Sarah and Gloria came over to mine last night.”

She ignored the little pang of jealousy; Angie was entitled to spend time with whomever she pleased. If any of them had harmed her... Well, Peggy's revenge would be both inventive and untraceable.

“I thought you said Sarah's a slut,” she said, kindly, perching next to her. She wanted to reach out and touch her, comfort her, maybe stroke her ruined hair, but wasn't sure if the gesture would be welcomed.

“She is. But turns out sluts get gifts from their gentlemen admirers. Gifts like top-shelf liquor.”

“So, what happened?”

“We drank it.”

“And then?”

“We drank _all of it_.”

“You're- Angie, are you _hungover_?”

Her only response was a pitiful little moan.

“Well, I'm sorry,” Peggy said curtly, standing up. “But I don't have any painkillers.”

“Already took a load,” Angie murmured in to the sheets.

“Then what, exactly, do you want from me?”

“I was hoping for a little sympathy, maybe.”

“Did Sarah and Gloria hold your mouth open and pour the drink down your throat?”

She looked up at Peggy from under her lashes and answered sheepishly, “No...”

“Seeing as you have no one to blame but yourself, I really don't know what you were expecting.”

“Jeez, Louise,” she grumbled. “You're worse than my Ma.”

“I'll try not to take that as an insult.”

Peggy found herself torn. On the one hand, she had just finished a night shift and should want nothing more than to get some sleep. On the other, Angie was lying in her bed, her slender legs pulled up close to her body.

The ability to drink more than a few men under the table was something Peggy had worked hard to cultivate but it hadn't come without several terrible morning afters. She remembered vividly quite how wretched she'd felt. Her annoyance began to slip away.

“Angie, sweetheart, why don't you go back to bed? Your own bed, I mean.”

She whimpered. “Gloria spilled drink all over it.”

“And I take it you're in no fit state to change the bedclothes.” Another little whimper. “Fine. Get off the quilt.”

Angie didn't move, just buried her face a little deeper in to Peggy's bed.

“If you don't move,” Peggy pointed out, “Neither of us are going to be able to sleep.”

At that, Angie looked up at her hopefully.

“One would think,” she continued, “That Miss Fry isn't serious about us not having men stay over, seeing as she's provided us with beds big enough for two.”

“You're the best, Peg.” Angie smiled so that it lit up her face, then rolled over just enough to crawl underneath the covers.

“I'll remind you of that tomorrow. Now shove over. And you'd best not steal all the blankets or you can go back to your own room.”

“'ll try not to,” she told her sleepily. “If we get cold, c'n always huddle together f'warmth.”

Something about that made Peggy want to kick her out then and there. It also made her want to dive in with her and press their bodies close. She took a deep breath, steadied herself then set about her night-time routine. By the time Peggy finished getting ready for bed – removing her make up, setting her hair, changing in to her nightgown, all the things Angie _hadn't_ done – Angie was already fast asleep, dark eyelashes resting on her cheeks.

She turned off the lights and climbed in next to her, trying to keep several inches between the two of them. It was perfectly natural, of course, for two women to share a bed; that didn't prevent Peggy wanting to keep her distance. Even exhausted from work, she lay on her back in the dark, unable to sleep. The warmth of Angie's body seeped across the space between them. Over the thrum of New York in the early morning, all she could hear was the deep inhale and exhale of Angie's sleeping breaths.

Eventually, despite her near constant awareness of Angie and the unfortunate desire to reach for her, tiredness overcame Peggy, dragging her to sleep.

* * *

When she awoke, it was with the ghost of aeroplane engines echoing in her ears. Her heart pounded as she groggily realised she was safe, she was in her own bed, there were no planes, not here, not now. She wasn't sure exactly what she'd been dreaming of – the details had slipped away as she'd awoken, leaving her with only the sounds – but it hardly surprised her; aircraft frequently haunted her dreams. Half memories, half imaginings, her unconscious mind mashed them together, usually with the hum of bombers, the wail of sirens and the screech of falling shells. Much worse was when they came with the whine of failing engines and the crackle of radio static.

“Hey, English,” said a voice from the other side of her room, far brighter than Peggy felt.

She hadn't even noticed she was alone in her bed, too caught in the aftermath of her dream to register the empty space next to her on the mattress.

“What time is it?” she asked, sitting up.

“Two, I think. You missed lunch. But I made you tea.”

Angie appeared next to her, cup and saucer in hand. At some point, she'd gotten rid of the smudges around her eyes and pulled a patterned scarf over her hair.

“Oh, thank you,” Peggy said, taking the steaming cup from her. “You really didn't have to.”

The first sip cleared the dust from her throat and chased away the last residues of sleep.

“No, I really did,” Angie babbled. She sat down next to her, legs crossed over the side. “You'd just finished work, you were probably wiped, and me, I come in here – pretty sure I still smelled of booze – and take over your bed without even asking. So, I'm sorry, is what I guess I'm trying to say.”

“It's quite all right. After all, what kind of friend would I be if I forced you back to a bed that smelled worse than you did?”

“You're the best, Peg.” Angie leaned forward and pecked her on the cheek. The skin tingled where her lips had touched and her mind jumped back to before they'd fallen asleep, when Angie had said that to her. She rather liked hearing it from her, so sincere she almost believed it. “You got plans for the rest of the day?”

“Do you mean other than attempting to remove eye-liner marks from my pillowcases?” She looked so guilty, Peggy couldn't help but rest her free hand on Angie's forearm. “They were nearly due for a wash, anyway. No, I don't have plans.”

“I thought-” Angie ground to a halt, then looked down at where Peggy was absent-mindedly rubbing circles through the fabric of her sleeve. Peggy froze then hastily removed her hand. A crinkle of what might be confusion appeared around Angie's perfect eyes as she continued to stare at the spot Peggy had touched.

She cleared her throat, jolting Angie out her thoughts.

“Would you be a dear and put that on the counter?” Peggy asked, holding out her cup.

“Sure,” said Angie, sounding anything but but taking it anyway.

With a wistful look at Angie as she walked away from her, Peggy swung her legs off the bed and stood up.

“I was thinking,” Angie said, turning to her, “As it's my day off and, the way I figure it, you've not got work 'til tomorrow either, why don't we do something? We could go to the movies?”

“Uh, that sounds... lovely,” Peggy lied. Becoming too comfortable around Angie was dangerous, she knew. More time alone with her in the dark and Peggy wasn't sure she could trust herself not to slip up again. Her friendship was too valuable to risk in that way.

“No need to sound so excited. You want I should go?” Angie went to leave.

“Angie, no, wait.” She grabbed Angie's arm, stopping her.

“What, Peggy, what?” Angie demanded. “One minute, we're bedding down together, the next you can't wait to get rid of me. It's not even like it's the first time. And for some reason, I keep letting you get away with it. I just- I don't get you.”

She was so close, Peggy could feel the huff of her breath dancing across her face.

“Angie,” she murmured, her eyes caught on the closeness of her lips. “It's not- I-”

All of a sudden, those lips were on hers, soft but insistent; Peggy's eyes slipped shut. Then they were gone and, feeling bereft, she tried to follow them but Angie leant back, just out of her reach.

“You got me thinking I was imagining things,” she whispered.

“No, no, it was-” But she couldn't finish, her mouth occupied by and her arms full of a very enthusiastic Angie Martinelli, body pushed flush against hers.

Angie slid on to tiptoes, bringing their mouths more level, letting her lick her way deeper in to Peggy's mouth. Hands ghosting over the smooth fabric of Angie's robe, Peggy wrapped her arms around Angie's middle, holding her up as she threatened to tip forward. Angie's fingers found the sensitive skin behind Peggy's ear and she shuddered, gasping with pleasure.

Seeing the effect, Angie ran her fingers down Peggy's neck, red nails lightly scratching her skin, then carried on to her bare collarbone, fingertips catching on the lace edging of her nightdress. Then she deftly undid the tiny buttons at the back of the gown and it slipped from Peggy's shoulders, the top falling to her waist. Angie made a pleased little noise at the sight of her naked breasts and drew her in for another firm kiss.

Carefully, without breaking the kiss, Peggy walked them backwards towards her bed. With one hand, she pulled open the tie of Angie's robe and, with the other, pushed it off so it fluttered to the ground. Then, she gathered up the skirt of Angie's slip, pausing to grope her rear, before she drew it off over her head.

It would have been very easy to tear off the rest of Angie's underwear there and then but Peggy decided to take her time, to savour Angie. She slipped one hand between them, giving Angie something to grind against, teasing her, before she withdrew it, making her whine in frustration and press closer. Then, she slid the hand in to the tight space between her girdle and knickers, repeating the teasing. When she took it away again, Angie groaned before peppering Peggy's face with desperate kisses.

Peggy pushed her down on to the bed, climbed atop her and kissed her way down her neck. Ignoring her breasts, she instead licked at the thin strip of flesh between her bra and girdle, causing Angie to squeal. Grinning, she traced her thumbs along the seams of Angie's bra, her nipples plump under the thin fabric. Angie gasped, then threw her head back, biting her lip to keep from crying out. A mistake on her part: Peggy took it as a challenge.

Settling herself between Angie's legs, she lifted one up off the bed and undid the two little metal clips holding the stocking up. Then, she preceded to roll it down, kissing her way down the bare skin as it was exposed to the air. Slowly, she repeated it on the other leg; Angie whimpered. With a further teasing kiss to the top of each thigh, she took hold of the top of the girdle and tugged it down, leaving her knickers in place. Angie kicked it away, then sat up, grabbing at her.

Peggy went willingly, skin warmed by Angie's frantic touches and fevered kisses. She attempted to push Peggy's nightdress down and off but its nipped-in waist wouldn't fit past her hips, so Peggy was treated to Angie's frustrated grasping at her behind, the proximity of her hands to where she would like them making her tingle. She laughed at Angie's annoyed little growl. With one smooth movement, she pulled it off over her head, leaving her naked, the soft fabric of Angie's knickers rubbing up against her. She pressed closer, desperate for a little friction, encouraged by the insistent hands on her rear, drawing her nearer.

The hands snaked their way up the her body, stopping at her waist long enough to make her shiver. One settled on the back of her neck, deepening their kiss, the other found its way to her breast, began toying with her nipple; Angie swallowed her moan. Then, Angie slid one leg between hers, parting them, gave her something to rub up against, her movements becoming smoother as her slickness coated the skin. While one hand continued tease at her nipples, suddenly the other pushed between them, fingertips just breaching her, the heel firmly pressed in to her clit. Long fingers stroked her inside, strong circles rubbed at her outside. It was too much, too good, and Peggy came, groaning her release in to Angie's neck.

“You are wonderful,” she murmured against Angie skin, when she had recovered enough to form words.

Angie responded by kissing her, slow and sensuously, rubbing gently between her shoulder blades. Sated, Peggy wanted Angie to feel just as good. She pulled her up enough so she could reach down and unhook her bra. As Angie shrugged it off, Peggy leant down and took one of her nipples in her mouth. Angie gasped, arching up in to her. She mouthed her way down to the underside of her breast then across to the other nipple, tonguing at the surround before sucking it firmly.

Continuing further down, her fingers following the path her mouth took, she reached the top of Angie's knickers. She pulled the waistband down just far enough to dip her tongue in to her bellybutton. Angie squirmed. With a little tug, she got them low enough to nose at Angie's curls, the hair warm and intoxicating. Another tug and Angie could wriggle out of them, kicking them away.

Angie's knees fell open when Peggy parted them. She licked at the swollen flesh of her clit, tongue dipping down to taste the slick. Strong thighs bracketed her head as she hummed her pleasure against it. Hands clutched frantically at her shoulders, Angie's cries urging her on. They reached a crescendo and Angie came, shuddering.

Quickly, Peggy moved back up her body, kissed her roughly and, before she had a chance to recover, plunged two fingers inside her. She stroked unrelentingly until, whimpering, Angie came a second time.

Angie kissed her sloppy and uncoordinated, boneless in Peggy's arms. Peggy reached down, pulled the rumpled quilt over their naked bodies. With her free hand, she cupped Angie's face, kissed her softly, while Angie squirmed closer, pressing them together from chest to hip.

“That was- That was-” Angie tried drowsily, patting her thigh.

“Angie Martinelli at a loss for words,” Peggy teased. “I will take that as a compliment.”

Peggy was rewarded with more lazy kisses.

“You're the best, Peg,” she said and Peggy felt her heart swell. For a little while, nothing else in the world mattered, not with Angie in her arms and those words on her lips.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Oh god. This was meant to be fluff. And then smut happened.
> 
> For anyone interested, most of my research on their underwear came from this [lovely article](http://www.vintagedancer.com/1940s/1940s-lingerie-history/).
> 
> All Briticisms are deliberate but any other mistakes are solely my own. Come hang with me over at [tumblr](http://beckydawolf.tumblr.com).


End file.
